Soldier
by the female apophis
Summary: She's a soldier. That won't change any time soon...


Soldier

By: the female apophis

Disclaimer: I don't own them or the songs. Enough said.

Spoilers: Probably. But I don't have the patience to name them all.

Rating: R for words and mention of graphic suicide.

Pairings: S/J UST.

Summary: She's a soldier. It won't change anytime soon.

Song: Yep. It's basically The Eminem Show by Eminem. It's pretty damn powerful too.

Other Stuff: Possibly. It might show up in here somewhere. You'll know when and if you see it.

Archive: Only if you ask me first.

A/N: I needed to get some stuff off my chest. This story was the result. Hope it doesn't scare you too badly!

********************

She would always be a soldier. She wouldn't let herself be anything other than that.

So here she stood, looking down as they lowered her best friend down into a grave.

She couldn't bring herself to look at Jack. She knew she wouldn't like what she would see there.

As soon as the service was over, she gave a reassuring hug to Cassie before heading off to her bike.

She didn't care that she was wearing a skirt. She took her bike to the graveyard, and no one was gonna reprimand her about it.

She knew she should probably slow down, but right now she didn't care.

So when she pulled up in her driveway, she was a bit stunned that Jack was already there, leaning against the hood of his truck, that steely look in his eye.

She simple parked the bike and walked past him, never looking at him or saying anything to him.

She wouldn't let herself. She knew why he was there. Frankly she didn't give a damn.

As she slipped the key in the lock, she heard him walk up behind her. As she let herself in, she really didn't care if he came in or not, so she left the door open, letting him decide.

She heard the door close behind her, and she knew that he was watching every move she made.

"What do you want?"

"We need to talk Carter."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh really? Cause if your actions at the graveyard are anything to go by, I'd say there was."

"Go away."

"Not until we talk."

"Go the fuck away." She said it quietly, but the intensity in her voice caused him to unconsciously take a step backwards.

"You have no right..."

"No, but then again you have no right to be here and tell me how to run my life."

"I'm not doing that."

"Aren't you? I mean, you follow me around, try to get me to do things I don't want to do. Why do you do it? Hmm? Why do you force me to do things that go against everything I believe in?"

"It's your job."

"That's what all this is about isn't it? You do it because I'm supposed to be the good little soldier. You say jump, and I say how high right?"

"It's not like that?"

"Isn't it? That's all it's ever fucking been Jack!"

"Carter..."

"Just get out. Go, before I call the cops for trespassing."

"Fine. But you know where to find me if you need to talk."

"GO!"

He did as she asked, knowing that she needed her time to grieve.

As she heard him leave, she made her way to the basement, needing something to ease her nerves.

Grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the closet, she traveled up the stairs, heading straight to the living room.

She wasn't gonna be using the glass tonight.

As she uncapped the bottle, she sank into the warm depths of the couch before hopping back up and heading to her CD player.

This called for something hardcore, someone that understood pain. She only knew of one artist that could do that.

She popped in The Eminem Show before grabbing the remote and going back to the couch. She hit play before tipping the bottle back and taking a long swig.

As the lyrics filled the room, she found herself mouthing to the words of the songs. White America always made her think a bit more.

__

All I hear is...  
Lyrics, lyrics  
Causing controversy  
Spawn that's working  
Round the clock  
Trying to stop my conscious early

She was beginning to feel some of the tension ease out of her shoulder's, a combination of the music and the booze.

__

Fuck you Miss Chaney!  
Fuck you Tipper Gore!  
Fuck you with the freedom's of speech this divided states of embarrassment will allow me to have!  
Fuck you!

As the last words were spoken, she yelled the words at the top of her lungs.

That made her feel a bit better.

She hit the skip button as Business came on. It wasn't what she needed right now.

Cleanin' Out My Closet however, had potential.

__

Have you ever been hated or discriminated against?

The answer to that question was yes. She had to put up with the bullshit every day of her being female in what was a predominately male world.

__

My whole life I was made to believe I was sick when I wasn't  
'Til I grew up, now I blew up, it makes you sick to your stomach  
Doesn't it?

Sam also sang these words, as the contents of the bottle continued to get closer and closer to the bottom.

__

Well guess what, I am dead, dead to you as can be!

In a way, part of her had died. It was buried with Janet in a small plot in the local graveyard.

When Square Dance came on, she listened to it, feeling more of the tension ease out of her soldiers.

The only problem was, it made her think about Jessica.

Jessica had been her best friend all throughout high school. The two had remained close after they graduated.

So when Sam came home for the holidays, she ended up having one of the worse experiences of her life.

Jessica had committed suicide in front of her.

Sam had woken up at three in the morning, her phone ringing persistently in her ear. Picking up the receiver, all she had been able to hear was Jessica crying desperately from the other end.

She'd been raped. She was at home, begging Sam to come help her.

A drive that usually took twenty minutes suddenly only took five; that was how fast Sam drove that night.

Getting there, she had to bust down the door, her key not working in the lock.

As she tried to locate her friend, she had gotten really scared by all of the blood on the carpet.

She found Jessica in the bathroom, her clothes bunched up in the floor, and Jessica was in the shower, letting the water beat down on her.

It hadn't taken Sam long to turn the water off and wrap her friend up in a towel.

As she guided her to the bedroom, she hugged her friend tight, letting her cry in her shoulder.

As she laid her friend down on the bed, she sat by her the entire night, holding her hand the entire time.

The next morning, she and Jessica had talked, and Sam had been there again when Jessica had broken down into tears.

She remembered telling Jessica to go take a shower.

It had been about twenty minutes when she heard it.

The sound of a gun going off.

She ran the entire way to the bedroom, and nearly passed out when she saw the site before her.

Jessica was lying on her bed, blood streaming from her mouth and also from the rather large hole in the back of her head.

She'd just eaten a bullet.

Sam called an ambulance, knowing that it would be too late, but she wasn't ready to accept it yet.

She then called Jessica's parents and her boyfriend.

All three arrived shortly after the paramedics did.

Jessica's mom had passed out when she saw Jessica's body being carried out of the house, while her boyfriend had thrown up.

He admitted himself to a mental institution a month later.

Sam had joined the Air Force two months later.

Which brought her back to her current situation.

__

I'm a soldier  
These shoulder's hold up so much  
They won't budge  
I'll never fall or fold up  
Even if my collar bone's crush or crumble  
I will never stumble.

Damn, why did she have to be such the good little shoulder?

So many others didn't do that. They didn't play by the rules.

Of course, playing by the rules got her where she was today.

If she hadn't have played by the rules so many times, she probably would never have gotten the position at the Pentagon, which of course led to the SGC.

Then it hit her. If she had never played by the rules, she would never have met the guys or Janet.

She would've lost her dad to cancer, she would have lost so many, and never met others.

She wouldn't, couldn't accept that.

She still had some pretty unbearable shit happen to her, but it made her who she was today.

And while she may not love it, she was still okay with it.

She got up, and somehow in her drunken haze, managed to get to the phone.

Hitting number two on the speed dial, she listened to it ring before the answering machine picked up.

__

Hi, this is Colonel Jack O'Neill. If you need to leave me a message, do so after the beep. If it's really important, try my cell-phone. If that doesn't work, then you're pretty much screwed.

She had the message memorized by now, so she didn't even realize it had finished until she heard the beep.

"Uh, hi. It's Carter. Listen, sir, we need to talk. Call me as soon as you get this. Bye."

She switched the phone off, and tossed the now empty bottle into the trashcan.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, she headed back to her couch, her phone and beer in hand.

It wasn't another twenty minutes before the phone rang, scaring her slightly.

Turning down the stereo, she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Carter?"

"Hey."

"I, uh, got your message. You want me to come over there?"

"Yeah, and bring some alcohol, it seems I'm running a bit low."

"Be there as soon as I can okay?"

"Okay."

She heard him hang up his own phone before turning hers off and cranking the volume back up on the CD player.

The sounds of 'Till I Collapse filled the air as she slugged back the rest of the beer.

__

Sometimes you just feel tight, you feel weak.  
But when you feel weak, you feel like you wanna just give up.  
But you gotta search within you,  
Gotta find that inner strength, and just pull that shit out of you.  
And get that motivation to not give up and not be a quitter  
No matter how bad you just wanna fall flat on your face.

She heard the knock on her door just before the lyrics started up, and she somehow managed to make it to the door without stumbling too badly.

Slinging the door open, she let him in, making her way back to the couch.

She would let him close the door. She wasn't up to being the good host at the moment.

She heard him head to the kitchen, and plop some bags down on the counter.

"I assume you brought alcohol?"

"Not quite."

"Why not?"

"I figured you really didn't need anymore tonight."

"I'm willing to suffer the consequences if it helps me to forget for a little while."

"You don't honestly mean that do you?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know, I never really considered you as the depressed drunk type Carter."

"I'm not depressed, I'm simply a bit more thoughtful when I'm drunk."

"I've noticed."

He plopped down on the couch beside her before grabbing the remote to the stereo and turning it off.

"Hey! I was listening to that!"

"Not any more you're not!"

She simply glared at him before stretching out and closing her eyes.

She just allowed a low moan to escape her lips as he began to rub her feet.

"So, how long exactly have you been drinking?"

"I don't know. I got started not long after you left."

"And in all this time, you didn't bother to change out of your blues? Carter, I'm shocked."

"Bite me flyboy."

"Hey, you're talking to a superior here."

"Do you want me to tell you where to shove it?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Fuck you Jack!"

"Your wish is my command."

"Okay, okay. I take it back...unfuck you!"

He simply smiled before standing up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm taking you to bed and then I'm going to make up the hangover cure. I have a feeling you'll be regretting drinking so much tomorrow morning."

"You're probably right. Thanks."

"Don't mention. Now come on, let's get you into bed."

"Will you be sleeping with me?"

"Oh yeah, you've definitely been drinking too much. It's starting to cloud your judgement."

"No, it's just letting me say things that I've wanted to for a while."

He had already helped her to lay down, not really caring that her blues were gonna be unbelievably wrinkled.

"Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

She simply nodded.

After she had fallen asleep, he pulled out some clothes and placed a trashcan next to the bed, just in case she got sick. The clothes were for in the morning so she could change without having to search for them.

Heading back down to the kitchen, he cleaned up the beer bottles and the mess that she had created before setting about making the hangover cure.

***

Dear lord her head hurt.

Glaring at the open curtains, she simply pulled the comforter over her head, hoping to banish the light from her area.

It wasn't working.

Then she heard it, the sound of someone singing from her kitchen.

"What the fuck..."

She carefully climbed out of bed and smiled when she saw the clothes sitting on the chair.

Quickly changing into them, she grabbed her head in one hand as she crept softly down to the kitchen.

She did it as much to keep her head from hurting as she did to not let the current occupant of her house know she was awake.

She stood there for a few minutes watching Jack as he was making what looked like orange...goop was the only way to describe it.

"What the hell are you doing to my kitchen?" She quietly whispered.

"Morning." He whispered back.

Oh yeah, she was hurting.

But now that he was there, the pain was beginning to ease.

Not only from her head, but also from her heart.

This might not be so bad after all.

~fin~

So, what did you think? I know it's dark, but I really needed to get some shit off my chest. Much love to ya all!

Much love also goes out to Angel Leviathan and Aligater for beta-ing this for me. Without them, I would definitely be lost!


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